Tricks of the Trade
by ViletChildofTime
Summary: Enter Puck. Enter Jareth. Oh, and make them both school boys.
1. Chapter One

The yawn split the air out of nowhere in the small cottage.  
  
The boy appeared a moment later. His tousled hair sprouting every which way as he rubbed his eyes.  
  
The redheaded beauty on the bed turned over to her side and squinted reprimandingly at him.  
  
"Robin, I won't have such mischief in my house," she scolded. "You come home before midnight or you don't come home at all." He bent over to plant a light loving kiss on the tip of her nose.  
  
"It's not midnight, yet, mother. It's barely dawn."  
  
She swatted at him and turned away. A wild stab ate at him as it sometimes did when she showed disappointment. He ignored it.  
  
He would have loved to crawl in next to her and curl up in a little ball of warmth, but sensed now was not the right time. He had chores to pretend to do anyways. Truth was he had long scared a few of the neighborhood boys into doing them for him. He sniffed softly, aristocratically, served them right for not playing with him right and proper, he thought.  
  
The one thing his mother wouldn't remind him, was to say his father was waiting. She looked longingly out the window for hours with that dreamy look in her eyes, but never spoke a word. It was to keep them both safe.  
  
Accordingly she never mentioned her lost love's name neither. The boy shrugged and virtually skipped out of the cottage in a voracious one of his mood-swings, from musingly cheerful to disgustingly cheerful. It was wonderfully early for it.  
  
Patsy was a pretty girl, for a mortal. Even with the smudge of ashen cinders across her cheek, she painted a lovely picture of purity in the morning glow.  
  
The cow shifted comfortably under her hands, although he imagined if it was him under those meticulously gentle ministrations, he'd be comfortable too.  
  
He watched patsy until her attention strayed and she started to hum.  
  
Seen and not heard applied to more than some mortals, though perhaps he had been spoilt by the nymphs that called in their sullen teasing voices as he walked through the hills. He did admit the human girl would look stunning voluptuously draped in nothing and whispering sweet promises.  
  
He listened a moment more to the humming and decided, maybe just voluptuously draped in nothing.  
  
Either way an unseen Robin crept into the barn smiling in all his wicked mischievously glory and taking the ends of her pretty corn-blonde hair, tied Patsy's curls into a mess of fairey tangles. So immersed in his tedious work was he that when she stood he jumped, stumbling to the side as she turned. He heard a sickening clang as his thigh hit the milk bucket tumbling it down.  
  
Milk scrambled every which way trying to get free as patsy whirled to call after the sprinting boy, "Curse you, Robin Goodfellow! Saints preserve your mother's nerves!"  
  
Out of breath from running and laughing at the same time, Robin collapsed just inside the forest. A sprite-ish laugh bubbling forth like frothing ale. He laughed that same drunken laughter until the boyish glee had gone flat and he was thirsty for more mischief.  
  
He laid a hand on his chest concentrating on his breathing until a fine idea would come into his head. They always did. Unbidden they slipped in and he was but a slave to their dominion, a prisoner to their mischief. He smiled again at that and would have laughed more had he the air in his lungs.  
  
His eyes weighed heavily on his face. Even he needed some sleep, eventually.  
  
  
  
When he opened his eyes again, the sun was late in the sky. Robin made a face and then realized someone was watching him.  
  
She stood there much like a nymph draped in gossamer. He wished he knew what else to call her, but the words escaped him. She stood there as if awaiting his reply to her presence. She seemed as if she could wait there forever. He didn't have forever.  
  
"Good morn?" he replied to her hard stare and her demeanor cracked into a smile. He wondered how long she had been waiting there.  
  
"You are most definitely a candidate," She remarked to him and the forest was gone.  
  
In its place stood stone walls and creatures milling about.  
  
The gossamer draped creature seemed to enjoy his squeak of bewilderment as he jumped into the air in an explosion of feathers and made to fly away.  
  
He was caught round the ankle in a dashing flash of speed and held tight.  
  
As strength was concerned, mayhap a chicken hadn't been the best choice of foul.  
  
The woman shouted, "Irons! Quick!" and in a flash and a dash he fell to the hard ground just a boy. Wild green eyes staring up under shaggy auburn hair.  
  
"You got one Mellanna," a voice said approvingly, "and such a pretty one too."  
  
The heavy weight round his ankle was an ominous sign. 


	2. Chapter Two

There were others here. Mostly young and wide eyed as the wind ripped through them in the open courtyard. The thing in gossamer wore green like a silken slip-sleeve as she stood before them. The dark man beside her called out in a clear, powerful voice that hung in the clearing without magic aide.  
  
"Listen up, you children are going to be learning something on you stay here and I hear one word to the contrary- you all will suffer the same fate."  
  
He looked serious as he addressed the motley group. There were six boys and two girls altogether, not to mention the number of people on-looking this spectacle.  
  
The man continued, "I don't treat you, royalty, with the gentle womanly ways you've become accustomed to. We're here to grow you up some, not coddle. We're running a school, not a court. If you're lucky-you'll survive."  
  
Robin rolled his eyes muttering, "Oh, I'm so scared" The boy next to him with the long pale blond hair smiled sneaking a glance sideways.  
  
The big dark haired man walked up to Robin and loomed. After a moment of unrepentant smiling up at the strange man, he snorted at the boy.  
  
"One of Oberon's get, should have expected it." He looked to say something more when he looked over the puzzled look on Robin's face and paused. "Melora, get them quarters." He turned away consciously ignoring Robin. "Send the smart one to me when he's settles and we'll see what it takes to get a little fear into him." Robin made a face and the blond boy next to him tried to hide another laugh, but the big dark looming one caught it. "Both of them need a house warming."  
  
Melora nodded and the blonde boy underneath that fine pale complexion paled even more.  
  
Robin shrugged but out of sympathy to the plight he shared with the boy he said nothing more.  
  
Instead, he yawned.  
  
**************************************************************************** ***  
  
Melora, in her blaise of brilliant green glory, led the way. Robin kept a few steps straight and gave up on his ploy to play serious and skipped behind her. She pretended not to notice, while making it obvious she did by the little hidden glances and slight frowns. Robin seemed to be the oblivious one as the crew trudged along.  
  
They walked tall, like a fetching batch of aristocrats should, even with cuffs of chain around their limbs.  
  
"They glint pretty in the light," Robin commented to the little blond boy as he caught him starring at them. He looked twice as miserable and three items as determined not to show it. Demonstrating, Robin caught a flickering of the floating torchlight in the band of softly polished metal.  
  
The blond princeling looked up at him ready to respond when Melora interrupted.  
  
"Macy, Cara, these are your quarters." The two girls looked at each other. While one's dark brown waves showed off fiery red highlight, the other with water washed violets for eyes, tossed her thick black hair over her shoulder heedlessly.  
  
"We have to share?" She seemed slightly outraged. Melora nodded and smiled, already moving on.  
  
"Leareth and Topaz, yours," she remarked opening the door. A chill swept through the hallway as the boy with the hair like liquid pitch stalked past them wordlessly. He screamed protest in everything but his voice. The boy with the dark golden hair followed looking miserable. It seemed a common theme in this place.  
  
Robin smirked. "Well this is fun already," he whispered cheerfully. There were only four of them now. Robin walked backwards to see them better.  
  
One had a mottled coat of hair, dressed in what looked like brown and red silk. It had gold stitching. Robin squinted raising his other eyebrow at the same time. It was a technique he hadn't quite perfected yet.  
  
They boy looked back at him evenly, the only one who bothered to acknowledge his surveillance. Those steady eyes glittered oddly and it took him a minute to realize the pupil was slit wrong.  
  
Robin paused mid-step. He leaned in closer for a better look at those odd eyes.  
  
"Mee ow," he said appreciatively. The boy reared up with a sharp hiss and a sting that vanished quicker than it had come.  
  
Melora cleared her throat above the two. Robin looked up at her with eyes innocent as spring.  
  
"There'll be none of that," She said disapprovingly. The hardness in her eyes suggested trouble.  
  
"We were just playing, 'Lora," Robin added in his cutest voice. Her eyes flickered to him.  
  
"That's Lady to you," she said in a gentler tone and turned back to walking. The cat-boy let out a breath and walked past the three of them.  
  
Robin shrugged falling back in line with the blond haired boy and smiled at him, "they call me Robin. What's yours?"  
  
"Mine?" he asked. His voice was a lilting musical thing. Robin was startled. It had only that husky edge to it that stopped it from being feminine.  
  
"Name."  
  
The boy grinned ruefully, "Jareth." It seemed like he wanted to say more but with a glance at Melora's gossamer back he stilled.  
  
Melora pushed open the next door. Darren and," she paused a moment pursing her lips thoughtfully, "Greggor, this is your room."  
  
The cat-boy proceeded inside letting the little gray eyed one rush after him. Melora shut the door and turned to the two left in the corridor.  
  
"You'd do best to stay on Vhon's good side," she warned them.  
  
Robin blinked lovingly. "We never hoped for anything else, Lady."  
  
She muttered a word in an elfin tongue. "I should've kept you in that room and let you get your throat ripped out." Any fool could tell she didn't mean it, especially Robin. She pitched open the last door. "You two, in."  
  
Jareth nodded at her as he passed, like he was dismissing a servant. Robin just grinned and as soon as he was inside turned to blow her a kiss before disappearing into the room.  
  
It was stark, but livable. The windows let in a pale streak of sunlight that slanted oddly wrong. Jareth didn't seem to give it notice, but then the thin boy was looking around the room with some measure of accepted dismay.  
  
Robin plopped on one of the two mattresses feeling it give way underneath him. "Soft," he remarked absently before pulling a stern face, "What are you in fer?" The other boy looked at him slightly distracted.  
  
"Do you even know where we are?"  
  
Robin shrugged and swung his legs about, "Some place with elves."  
  
The boy turned to look at him, his pale blond hair falling over his shoulder in a rush. That's when Robin noticed his eyes.  
  
"An elf 'rounding camp, that's where."  
  
Robin blinked not fully paying attention to the words.  
  
"Mum always did threaten me with those," he heard his voice saying as he squinted trying to make out exactly what was so incredibly odd about the gentle blue eyes the boy had.  
  
As the boy turned to climb on top of his own mattress, the spell was broken.  
  
He blinked once and tried to curl his legs up under him, the heavy ankle bracelet making it hard.  
  
Instead he settled for once leg under him, one dangling.  
  
Jareth's restraints were not the same and seemed to consist of a pair of black gloves that extended all the way up to his elbow gleaming with a steely light.  
  
Robin sniffed in light jealousy, "what are you anyway?"  
  
"A goblin," he replied simply. Robin squinted, leaning forward.  
  
"You don't look much like a goblin."  
  
"Well, not a Goblin goblin; I'm prince of the goblins."  
  
"Oh," Robin nodded feeling decidedly less than royal. "I'm no one special, just Robin." He smiled at the boy and held his hand out. "Robin Goodfellow."  
  
The boy looked like he didn't understand. Robin rolled his eyes and half threw himself off the bed exasperatedly. Grabbing the blond boy's gloved hand he shook it vigorously.  
  
"Pleased to meet you, oh, Jareth, prince of the goblins." He smiled back at Robin's attack, a smile filled with boyish charm.  
  
"Who signed you up for this place?"  
  
"Don't know." Robin shrugged. "Me mum would've said something. She's fair sweet enough but doesn't bode well with secrets. I know many who'd like, but," he shrugged. Jareth glanced down at his ankle.  
  
"They bound you with iron, that means you're a faerey right?"  
  
"Don't much know the way they knock me about, like a puck from one place to another. I could be a bloody gnome."  
  
"A 'puck', eh? So when they were 'pucking' you about, no one ever mentioned Brandlewood?"  
  
Robin grinned masking the frail doubt that he could be wrong, "not to this puck."  
  
Jareth returned the grin wholly.  
  
"Since we two are stuck here, we might as well be compatriots." Robin grinned, not caring if that was the wrong word. He went to make a flag appear when he doubled over in a sudden wade of sickness. His ankle burned and his stomach turned.  
  
When he came to himself, it was Jareth's cool hand on his forehead he felt. Both boys tried for a smile.  
  
"The iron'll do that to a faerey," he remarked quietly. "Friends?"  
  
"Bosom companions, goblin prince." Jareth nodded a glint of mischief coming to his eyes.  
  
"Right then, puck." 


End file.
